Hiroshima In Class Today

I get tar in my heart

When we talk about it.
My eyes are open
But they feel closed
As I see
How their shadows
Got splattered on walls
Instead of blood.

Can you be haunted by what you haven’t seen?
And doesn’t it eat away at your insides
That something so tragic,
so truly terrible
Is reduced to a tangent in class?
And before the ash really seeps into your senses
the professor is saying
“But let’s get back to the point.” And
I feel the world ripping,
hearing everyone’s thoughts get comfortable
and soft again.

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